


Open

by KarrineGenesis (MattySeptiplierTale)



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Slow Build, Starvation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-14 21:03:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4580049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MattySeptiplierTale/pseuds/KarrineGenesis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark is so alone. Utterly and painfully alone. Skype is starting to not help and even the friends he does have, he doesn't want to worry.</p><p>He resorts to torturing himself with rubber bands, knives, and starving. Jack starts to get worried, so he comes to check up on Mark.</p><p>Jack works hard to save Mark from himself, to fix the broken man. Erase the death, doubt, Detroit...</p><p>'Potentially lovely<br/>Perpetually human<br/>Suspended and open'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wonderwall

**Author's Note:**

> So I finally made this. This story hurts Mark more then Jack, opposite of Save Me. Most hurt though is either internal, past, or self harm. Dark themes ahead.

Seeing Jack always brought Mark solace. Skyping his friend made it not hurt as much being the only one in this big apartment. Except he couldn't help the anxiety in himself that made him wonder if all of his friends actually liked him... If Jack secretly hated him.

Mark sighed and layed back on the bed. He rubbed his face and wiped the tears stuck in his eyes away. His chest shook as he breathed shakily. Everyone saw him like he was some idol. All his fans but… He wasn't.

He'd done things, he'd failed people... Mark took a much softer breath, before his eyes opened. He was sure that the people who said they loved him, the ones that KNEW him, secretly hated him...

When he awoke, he was always afraid that he was going to be replaced… Mark was sure he was only tolerated, no matter what others said.

He knew that if Jack left him, he'd be afraid of everything. Mark was already so broken because of losing his dad. It'd hurt worse if they left him by choice...

They kept asking if he was ok. Mark didn't know how to answer that. He went through all the trouble to keep it inside him, trying to keep all of his inner turmoil away from everyone...

But Mark was breaking. He held up his wrist, running his fingers down the welts left behind by the rubber band. His eyes shut and he let his arms fall to the bed.

"I'm sorry." Mark spoke to the ceiling. Maybe he was talking to his father. Maybe Wade. It Bob. Or Felix. Ken. Or even Yami.

He had a feeling this time it was Jack. "I... You don't know this, and I hope you never do, cause I know I'd have my heart broken if you did, but… I love you. I'm alone and tired and in PAIN… And you help…"

Mark turned in the bed, pulling his knees to his chest and softly crying. A noise from his recording system in the other room startled him, and he went over. Jack was requesting a Skype call? Why would he ever want to see Mark?

Mark wiped at his eyes and answered. Jack's face filled the screen. He opened his mouth a moment before he shut it, worry on his face. "Mark?" He spoke, accent warming Mark up a little.

Mark raised his arm and wiped at his eyes again. Jack have a noise of surprise and despair. Mark snapped to attention and dropped his arm. Jack had seen the slightly bloodied welts along his arm...

Well at least he didn't see the cuts on his legs. "Mark..." Jack's voice filtered into Mark's ears softly... Broken. Mark slowly looked up at the monitor, eyes half lidded.

"Please tell me what's wrong..." Mark looked away, shutting his eyes. He was so tired, he hadn't been sleeping much either... He needed to eat to, he supposed.

"... I can't sleep." Jack blinked at the other's words. "Wh-why?" He asked, rushing a hand through his hair.

Mark hesitated on answering. For a moment, he stayed silent, licking his lips a little. "Mark."

"How can I sleep when I don't have dreams? I just have nightmares..." He took a shaky breath, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Jack froze, eyes wide and tear filled. His shoulders sagged and his mouth was slightly open in shock. "I..."

Mark shook his head and ended the call, ignoring Jack's yell, "Wait-!" He stared at the screen, at his contacts.

He turned on Do Not Disturb, stopping the try to call him back from Jack. Mark stood and started to go to the kitchen, turning in his iPod. He hummed along to 1901 by Phoenix.

Mark searched his fridge, before going to the freezer. The song changed to Talking To The Moon by Bruno Mars, making him freeze.

"I sit by myself... Talking to the moon..." He shook his head to bring his senses back and pulled out a hamburger patty. He pulled a pan and some oil out as well, before he started to cook.

"Stop... The train is riding down to the station where you lived, when we were school kids..." Mark sang along. He didn't remember the name or band that sang this song, but he loved it.

Mark continued to sing, finishing his cooking. He set the burger on a bun and started to fix it up how he liked it. He sat down and started to eat, eyes shut.

He wasn't going to be eating any time soon, so he made sure to savor his first meal since breakfast yesterday. He finished eating, washed his dishes, and went back to the recording room.

Mark debated on whether to upload then get some sleep, or upload, record a bit, then sleep.

Either way, He started to upload. Mark waited for a few minutes till it was uploaded, before going to his bedroom and lying down. Mark's eyes closed and he pulled his knees to his chest. awaiting the nightmares he knew would plague him.

Jack leaned back from his computer after 15 minutes of failed calls. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. "Fucking damnit…" Jack cursed, shaking his head lightly. He quickly looked for a plane ticket to LA.

Jack looked through his money, biting his lip. He glanced to the side, thinking. Mark was important. Jack had other money to.

He bought a ticket there, making sure he had enough for the way back, and spun in his chair. He hadn't eaten yet that day, so he went to his kitchen and made himself some cereal.

Jack Sat down at his table, rubbing at his tear filled eyes. "Mark... I want you ta be ok..."


	2. Afraid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If bow-ties-and-flannel and socxxliplier are real Tumblrs, they’re not Mark. I just thought of it for him so I mean…
> 
> Also I'm super sorry it took... forever.

“I hate you.”

For a small moment, the venomous words just pierced Mark’s heart, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. A flinch shot through his body, causing him to squeeze his eyes closed a moment, taking a step back. Wh-What…? Why was Jack saying that…? Why was he glaring at…

Jack stepped forward, before his fist shot out, taking Mark off guard. The punch hit him straight in the stomach, making him fold in on himself.

“J-Jack…” The whimper expelled from his mouth, weakly. He felt tears well up in his eyes. Oh god…

“Don’t even say my fuckin’ name, ya bastard.” Jack snarled, grabbing Mark’s jaw and forcing him to look into angry, crystal blue eyes.

“Ya love me?”

Mark flinched again at the question, chocolate eyes watery. He was a mess, feeling his insides twist and turn and shatter at each thought and each word from the Irishman’s lips.

“Why would ya ever think I’d love you back?”

Mark’s eyes blinked, tears spilling down his cheeks. He’d thought hiding behind the lie had just made things so much worse. As soon as he let everything out, stopped trying to hide himself…

Suddenly, Jack’s hand was up… and then backhanding him, so hard his vision grew spotty.

He cried out, apologies screaming from his lungs. He fell to the ground, rubbing his eyes forcefully. He tried to stop the tears, voice quieting down.

“J-Jack, please… Why don’t you- what did I do to make you hate me?” Mark sobbed.

His wrist was bloody.

At the realization, he pulled his hand back to inspect the deep cuts all over his wrist, nearly screaming in surprise.

“What haven’t ya done? Don’t act so surprised; why would ANYONE love _you_?!” Jack barked, grabbing Mark’s hurt wrist tightly.

Mark cried out again, tears restarting and sobs rolling through his chest painfully.

“Why’re ya cryin’, little bitch? Yer th’ one tha’ hurt this arm. Thought ya’d like me hurtin’ it more.”

Mark whined pathetically as Jack’s grip got tighter and he pulled Mark roughly off the floor. “Everyone hates you.”

Mark awoke with a start, sobbing wildly before he started to realize it was just a dream… Another nightmare. He put his hands to his face and gave a shaky exhale.

Alone.

Mark was alone, tired, and in despair.

“Th-They don’t hate me, right? It was just a… Just a nightmare…” He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

A jolt shocked through his body when his phone rang, before he rolled over to grab it. It was Wade.

Mark was pretty sure he knew why Wade was calling him…

Mark glanced at the time. 9 pm…

Damn, he figured he needed to try and get on an actual sleeping schedule soon… he was going to need a lot of coffee and energy drinks so he stayed up until the next night…

He answered the call, falling back on the bed.

“Hey Wade…”

“Oh my god, finally… I called you nearly 20 times and you didn’t answer, I was worried…”

Mark exhaled and moved a little to get comfortable, staring at the welts across his wrist. “I was asleep.” He finally mumbled, rubbing at his eyes with one hand. God damn it, he was so tired…

“That’s good, you haven’t-”

Mark cut his friend off with a hushed mumble, eyes shut. “I had a nightmare.”

Wade’s end of the call went silent.

Mark opened his eyes and pulled the phone away to see if it was still on, before pressing it back to his ear. “Wade?”

“Do you need me to go over and help you? I’m really getting worried about you.” Wade finally spoke, voice soft. He’d obviously willed up the courage to offer his help, try to be gentle with Mark.

God did Mark hate it. Why couldn’t he just act normally…?

Mark wrapped an arm around his stomach. As much as he hated how Wade was acting like he would shatter at any moment… He couldn’t help but really want someone by his side… And yet… “I don’t want to bother you…” He gave a shaky breath.

He could practically hear Wade shaking his head. “You never do. Don’t say that. Look, if you need me-”

“I don’t.” Mark shut the call off, staring at the screen for only a moment before he turned off the whole device.

He didn’t need to listen to his ringtone over and over. Knowing Wade, he was going to try calling over and over until Mark picked up. And he wasn’t going to pick up.

Mark rolled over, turning on his music player. For a moment, he just listened to the piano at the beginning, curling into himself. Tears dripped down his cheeks heavily, splashing onto the mattress.

He gave a shuddering breath, cursing at the song only a moment before looking over at his bathroom.

‘ _I try to ignore the hurt inside… and bit, by bit, part of me dies. The smile on my face is just a lie, a lie, a lie, I just can’t hide…_ ’

Mark stood on shaky legs and made his way to the bathroom, opening the mirror. He didn’t care to go find a knife, it didn’t matter to him. He just grabbed an unused razor and cracked it open, ignoring as one of the blades sliced his finger. He just needed…

‘ _The blade of the knife, it cuts so deep. The pain, the pain, I don’t dare speak. I can’t let you know the way I feel; the secret I will keep._ ’

Mark gave a cry as he accidentally sliced to deep, at an odd angle. He dropped the small blade into the sink, losing it in the growing pool of blood. He’d cut so much…

He breathed oddly, tears dripping into the sink and splashing into the mixture of his pain.

‘ _I don’t need your sympathy. Your vicious lies, they’re killing me… And you don’t even understand the things I feel or who I am…_ ’

Mark watched it drain down, eyes only half open as he watched the liquid drain down slowly, before he turned on the faucet.

His chocolate eyes looked up at his pale reflection, noting the bags under his eyes and how hollow his face looked. His hair clung to his forehead, cold sweat making him shiver.

‘ _Try so hard to bring you joy. My heart is cold, the flame is dead. I hide behind the lie that has become the new me..._ ’

After awhile of staring at his haggard appearance, he whispered to himself. “… I-I need…”

Mark turned, getting his first aid kit. He sang along with the song shakily as he dressed his wounds.

“ _I t-toss and I tur-rn, I just can’t sleep… You’re gone, s-so long… That’s fine w-with me… I won’t turn around, my mind is c-clean… But the wounds that you leave never heal…_ ”

Mark finished his left wrist, before moving onto his right. As soon as he was done, he threw on his sweatshirt and sighed. He had to record…

Jack finished packing, looking at his passport for a few moments.

He was able to, after hours of trying and trying, buy a ticket for LA from a guy for a flight that was about to leave in four hours. It was much more expensive because that was a ticket the guy had already bought weeks ago, but it was worth it…

He curled up in his bed, pulling the cover on him and putting his alarm on for two hours. He shut his eyes and soon fell asleep. He’d definitely needed it.

Mark pulled Jack’s smaller frame close, giving a small kiss to his forehead. “I love you, Jack…” Mark whispered, running his fingers softly up and down Jack’s back.

“I love ya too, Mark.” Jack answered, voice low and soft. He reached up and kissed Mark, relishing in the fact that the half Korean kissed back.

Suddenly, Mark was turning them so Jack lay on top of him.

Jack nuzzled Mark’s chest and shut his eyes. After a few moments of warmth, Jack’s crystal blue eyes glanced up at Mark. “Ya won’t ever leave me, right? Ya won’t let… him get ta me? I-I know it’s stupid, ‘a haven’t seen ‘im since I was like 12, b-but…”

Mark wrapped his arms around Jack’s waist and shushed him sweetly. “Never, promise.” He grinned up at Jack happily.

Jack smiled too, relaxing, before he felt Mark move.

A wave of pleasure suddenly rocketed through his body as Mark ground into him, giving a small moan.

Mark chuckled and sat up, palming Jack’s growing erection underneath his boxers. He slipped a hand underneath Jack’s shirt before his other one found its way into Jack’s boxers and…

Beep. Beep.  Beep. Beep.

Jack awoke, sitting up with a whimper. Oh man, he hadn’t had a dream like THAT in weeks… He sighed shakily. And now he had to take care of his ‘problem’…

Mark finished recording and started to edit, having grabbed a bowl of ice cream for the task. While normally he didn’t eat sweets, he thought after what had happened that he should try and calm himself, relax…

He finally finished and left it to render before going into the living room.

He curled up on the couch, grabbing a bunch of pillows and blankets and curling up into them after he turned on Doctor Who.

After a few minutes of watching 11 run around with Clara, he pulled out his phone and switched it on.

Missed calls, texts, messages on Skype…

Mark sighed and logged onto Tumblr, going on his secondary, private account and scrolling through. A message from his friend… She didn’t even know who he really was…

It felt nice.

‘Hey dude you just got on? Worried about you. Take care of yourself, and skype message me, woman!’

Mark snorted. He hadn’t forgotten how Jillian spoke. He also hadn’t forgotten how she knew he was gender fluid and had completely freaked out happy. For some reason.

Mark privately answered the ask that he would and opened Skype.

His status was Do Not Disturb. He frowned at the screen, before opening up the messages between him and her.

[Hey Jilly.]

Mark couldn’t understand what she said back, something in French. It was crazy having a French friend. He loved having a friend that liked him because of how he was, not because of how he acted.

He never acted in front of her.

He never pretended he was perfectly fine all the time.

Not that everything was an act. He was still a goof and loved all his fans and everything… But he wasn’t…

OK.

Mark smiled softly as he started to talk to her, ignoring the other messages he got.

Just Jilly.

Just be himself.

It was a few hours before she went to sleep and he was alone again.

It wasn’t much different than he was used too… So why did it hurt so much?

Mark sighed and stood, stretching. He went to his bend and went through his public Tumblr, reblogging fan art and stuff for a bit before he dog curiously searched up roleplays of him.

He was definitely intrigued, nearly following one of the blogs before he stopped himself.

Well, if anyone could RP him, it could be him…

He laughed at his own thought, shaking his head.

Wouldn’t that be perfect? No one would have to know it was him. He could be free of having to pretend…

Mark wondered if he should… But he didn’t have anyone he could talk to about it.

The pen name came to him before he had even decided if he’d do it yet. Written by… “Safety.”

Damn.

He didn’t know if he should do this. Of course, it could relieve some of his pent of emotions, he could make more friends, have fun…

Damn it!

He quickly opened his account paper in his drawer. His markiplier, his secret personal, bow-ties-and-flannel, and now he’d add the RP one.

Mark quickly rushed to his computer and uploaded the video he’d made a few hours ago before making a new email and account. It took forever to find a good theme that was just for roleplays and read up on all the rules on how to RP.

Oh god, and so many icons of himself… He found a link for over a thousand and quickly downloaded them and put them in a new folder labeled RP.

Mark named it socxxliplier because of the Markiplier cliché.

He quickly wrote it on his account paper and folded it away.

Mark liked it. Making this had definitely been a great way to take his mind off his pain. He’d nearly forgotten about his hurt wrists, before he accidentally moved his left one wrong and hissed, pulling it close.

No… He’d just been getting happy… It hurt…

No, no, it was fine. Mark swallowed back the pain and followed a bunch of RP blogs for his friends, favorite characters, Darkipliers, and Antisepticeyes.

Mark made a quick self promotion that was probably not that good and a starter call before turning it off and heading to his bed.

He was tired and he wasn’t even sure if he was going to do anything with his new blog.

It’d just been a pet project that he’d wanted to try and make but it looked… nice. And he knew Jilly RPd a lot…

Maybe it really would be a good thing. He knew Jilly had fun…

He hoped this would make him legitimately happy for once.

Mark drifted off, the time reading 4 am. He didn’t even care how stupid his idea was anymore.


	3. Feed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Graphic self harm, death, and sickness. Also this is very AU. Since I'm nearly finished with Hold You Like I'm Going To Lose You, I decided to start working on this one for the next story I try and finish.

 When he woke up, it was because of a loud knock on his door.

Mark groaned, forcing himself to sit up and ignore the dizziness that plagued his head. He vaguely remembered making a new blog, relapsing…

Mark’s arms hurt, but he ignored them in favor of trying to get to the front door.

His legs felt like jelly, tongue and throat dry. Mark’s steps were wobbly, vision swimming as he tried to look through the peep hole.

Green hair peaked into his vision, causing Mark to tilt his head slightly. His first thought was he was hallucinating again. It made sense, the dizziness and pain throbbing through his head and arms causing him to take a step back.

“Wh-Who’s there…?” His voice cracked.

“It’s me, Jack. ‘a took a plane to see you, make sure yer ok.”

Mark finally reached forward to open it, raising his eyebrow at Jack as soon as he opened the door.

“Why… are you here?” Mark mumbled, gripping onto his door tightly to keep himself from falling.

Jack frowned worriedly, biting his lip. “I… I’m worried about you, I… I saw…”

“I’m fine.”

Jack flinched a bit, looking away.

Mark’s voice was harsh, eyes not watching Jack. He shifted, sighing through his nose. “… I’m sorry… Did you… uh, come in?”

Jack stepped in, thanking him softly as Mark shut the door behind him.

Jack glanced at Mark’s covered arms, noticing the way he seemed to hide them when he noticed. Jack didn’t like it, swallowing dryly as Mark started to toddle off into the kitchen.

“Are… are you ok?” Jack asked, following behind him slowly.

“I’m fine. You didn’t have to waste your money and buy a ticket to see if I was ok.” Mark huffed, though a bit of warmth spread in his chest at the thought that maybe, maybe Jack cared…

Jack swallowed nervously, glancing away. For a few moments, he just stayed silent, before quickly following.

“I… I wanted to, I was worried… Yer my friend, Mark…”

“Look, Jack, I’m tired…”

Mark’s voice was mumbled as he grabbed at his coffee maker and started spooning in some grounds. He started the coffee maker, twisting a bit to watch Jack.

“… o-oh… sorry, Mark…”

Jack grit his teeth, shame painting his face red. Of course…

Mark let out a shaky sigh, reaching up to twist his fingers through the scarlet on his head. “No, don’t be… I’m just being a dick… Thank you for coming all this way, really.”

Jack looked back up at him, biting his tongue. “I… know ya probably didn’t want me ta come but… I was seein’ stuff you were doing and I was playing this one game about… and it all seemed ta add up and I got really worried…”

Mark watched as Jack gave a bite to his lip, hand around the coffee cup he had ready by the maker tightening. For a moment, all he wanted was to throw Jack out and slit his wrists again.

But that wouldn’t help, now would it?

How did that song go?

‘See, I’m a waste of life. I should just kill myself… Yeah, I could slit my wrists, but it really wouldn’t help. Wouldn’t fix my issues or change your mind, cause I broke your heart, and you buried mine.’

Mark’s heart skipped a beat at the thought, a memory forcing itself to the forefront of his brain and _he wanted Jack to fucking leave_.

Mark felt his stomach churn, bile rising into his throat and the pain throbbing through his head as the dizziness threatened to bring him into darkness. He felt like he was going to vomit or pass out, or both.

Whether it was from an infection or the lack of sleep or stress or something else, Mark didn’t know. He just knew that it felt like he was dying.

“M-Mark? Hey, a-are you- Mark?!”

Jack looked worried, grabbing at Mark’s shoulders tightly and watching him with wide, sharp blue eyes, primal fear stuck in them.

“I-I’m fine.” Mark shook his head a bit, ignoring the wave of nausea that suddenly came over him.

It was a moment before Jack spoke again, slowly releasing his shoulders, taking a shaky and slow step back.

Mark grit his teeth, a shiver running down his spine. “I-I just don’t f-feel that great. D-Do you have a place to stay? I-I think I might be sick, so probably not h-here.”

Jack swallowed harshly, glancing away and exhaling shakily. Right… “I… I can stay at a hotel or something. I don’t want to bother anyone till t’morrow.”

Mark stuffed his hand into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. “I-I’ll pay for your hotel room for tonight, and tomorrow I’ll ask if you can stay with Ryan or Matthias or something.”

Jack shook his head, looking away from him. “It’s fine. I’ll pay for it myse-!” He was cut off by a wad of money being stuffed into his hands, trying desperately to push it back.

“Just take it, Jack!”

Jack flinched, pulling back as Mark looked down to the floor.

“… Jack, I’m exhausted a-and I feel sick. I’m sorry, I just… want to sleep, ok?” Mark finally explained, voice softer. He wanted to say forever.

Mark almost wanted to say he wanted to sleep forever, he realized, rubbing at his eyes.

Jack slowly put the money Mark had given him in his pocket, hugging himself softly. He nodded, looking away. “I’ll come back tomorrow mornin’, alright?”

Mark nodded, giving a tired smile.

Finally.

Jack’s heart seemed to calm as soon as he saw Mark smile, giving one back. At least it seemed like Mark wasn’t as on edge.

Mark saw Jack out, locking the door behind the Irishman.

For a moment, he just rested his feverish head against the cool door, another shiver rushing down his spine.

Mark really did need sleep.

Instead, he hobbled over to his recording room, shakily uploading his video before getting to his bed.

He was starting to run out of previously recorded videos, and running out of good health.

Mark crawled into his bed, shutting his eyes as he felt cold press against his skin and into his veins.

He let out a small moan of pain as his arms continued to throb, before he finally delved into darkness, fingers tightened around his pillow as he fell into sleep.

“Hey… Mark, come on.”

Mark glanced up when he heard his father’s voice, sitting up from his bed.

For a moment, all he noticed was the fact that he was in his old bedroom, before he moved with his dad, when _they_ separated…

Mark let his dad pick him up, wrapping small arms around his neck. Mark realized he was small again, 8 at most…

He felt the memory of the 4 most pleasant years of his life press into his thoughts.

Mark remembered it, nuzzling his face into his dad’s chest as he tried to get back to sleep.

His mother glared after him, but he didn’t care, just pulling himself closer to his dad as he was carried out.

It was his dad’s death that ruined him, ruined his life.

He remembered, at 12 years old, sitting at the table waiting for his dad to come to breakfast with him when he crumpled in the other room.

He quickly stood and rushed to see his dad, dying on the floor.

Mark’s eyes widened, shaking hard as panic constricted his lungs, but he tried everything to just force it back and rushed toward his dad.

“D-Dad…? Dad please…”

“I-It’s ok, Mark… I’m sorry… I-I wanted to… survive until you were a-at least 18…”

Mark sobbed, shakily grabbing at his father’s shoulders in small hands and pulling him close. “Please, please, d-don’t di-ie…”

Part of him realized at this point he didn’t understand death as much as he did in the future.

He didn’t understand as much as he would in just a couple hours.

Tears streamed down Mark’s face as his dad seemed to weaken right in front of his eyes, shaking hard and giving a small scream.

“M-M-Mar-rk… You’re s-stro-ong… P-Prom-mise me… You’ll s-sta-stay strong…”

Mark pulled him close, nodding. “I p-promise… I lo-ove you, so much… P-Please don’t leave, daddy…”

“I love you too, M-Mark…”

Mark pressed his ear next to his dad’s heart, not letting go until he couldn’t hear a heartbeat anymore.

Two realizations surfaced as he let him go and stood on shaky legs,

Mark’s dad was dead, and he’d never be able to talk to or hug or save Mark, ever again.

And Mark would have to go back to living with his mother.

Mark’s eyes opened, pulling himself up slowly. His mouth was dry, legs shaking as he got to his feet. The nap had helped minimally, but he still felt slightly sick.

He wondered if he should go to the hospital, but decided against it once his arms and legs throbbed to remind him of the problems with that.

The cuts on his legs were close to fully healed by then, but Mark’s arms _hurt_.

The dizziness had subsided greatly, thankfully. He wrapped one of his arms around his belly, grimace set on his lips as he groaned.

Hunger gnawed at his core, as he sighed lightly.

He needed food, now.

Mark made his way to the kitchen, looking for anything to eat. After a bit of searching, he settled on a sandwich.

He grabbed the meat, lettuce, onions, mustard, mayo, cheese, everything he needed to make one, before making 3.

He wasn’t especially sure he could eat all of them, but he managed 2 and a half.

Already, he felt better. The mild headache that he had leftover from the horribly painful one before he slept was gone, and he felt less feverish.

The kitchen knife in the holder seemed to glint dangerously, grabbing his eye.

Mark stared at it for a long time, before shakily standing and getting close to it. He hadn’t done anything with that knife in a long time…

He remembered last time, when he didn’t even wrap his wounds and ended up passing out from blood loss…

Mark had completely crumpled, on his way to the living room, slamming into the floor and nearly dying.

He was lucky Wade and Bob had found him.

That was the first and only time he went to the hospital for what he did to himself, but they didn’t even care, not really.

Mark remembered them fixing him up, giving him a quick round of questions, and sent him on his way without help.

At least he hadn’t died.

Part of him wanted to do it again, even more of him hoping no one found him.

Mark wrapped his hand around the knife, shakily pulling it close. It was a moment before he made his decision, taking off his bandages and staring at the crust of dried blood over his wounds.

No wonder it hurt, him stretching his arms a bit and wincing when it cracked and flaked off.

Mark started to shake, dropping the knife on the floor on accident as soon as blood started to prick up again.

Mark really should have let himself rest, let his arms heal, but he hadn’t, and now he was bleeding again.

No wonder he probably had an infection.

Mark sighed, taking wobbly steps to his living room after he grabbed the knife again.

He didn’t use it, just set it on the coffee table and turned on the TV.

Mark pulled his phone out and started reblogging fan art on his main blog, commenting on a few tiredly.

He hated when he saw questions asking if he was ok.

He wanted to grab the knife so the answer was no. He wanted to fall asleep forever, sick as he saw people worry about him.

Mark finally tossed the phone away, grasping at his knife and pressing it lightly against his wrist.

Mark cursed, dropping it again. He couldn’t, he couldn’t…

“I’m sorry, dad…”

He picked up the knife and set it on the coffee table again, standing. He wobbled to his room, throwing on his sweatshirt and taking a few pain pills.

After he finally got control of his faculties and felt relatively normal, he decided to head to his recording room and play a bit of Case Animatronic.

It was awhile before Mark finally stopped recording, having recorded a bunch of videos set to upload when he needed them.

Seeing as he felt good, he used as much of his health to get as much as he could done.

By the time 4 AM rolled around, Mark was still awake, and not close to sleep.

“… I-I can’t…”

Mark shook his head, toddling off to his kitchen and opening his medicine cabinet.

As soon as he found the sleeping pills, he poured a large handful into his hand and threw them down his throat, drinking his water along with them.

Mark wondered if his body could actually handle how many he’d just force fed himself.

He already felt sick again, and weak, and the pills were only going to make him weaker…

Mark fell onto the couch, cursing a bit as he realized he didn’t help Jack find a place to stay while he was out…

He shut his eyes, feeling himself drift off into nothingness.

At least this time he didn’t get plagued with nightmares…


End file.
